


What A Mess

by AceOfHearts



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, oh look more characters, what is this even
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-02-07 12:51:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1899675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceOfHearts/pseuds/AceOfHearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College AU where scary part-time librarian/ full time student Tobio meets a hopeful who gets on his nerves whether he knows it or not. It's the last thing he needs right now, actually.</p><p>Chapter 3 is up (after more than 4 months)!</p><p>Comments/critiques are appreciated!</p><p>Also posted on FF.net</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nice Job

He is uptight. Well, not exactly. He’s just one of those people who like to follow a pretty formal dress code to a ‘T’. White shirts buttoned all the way up to the neck, same with the cuffs. Not a wrinkle mars the fabric, and Hinata wonders how that guy can pull it off every day, seven days a week, 365 days in a year. Even his hair is neat; dark hair parts evenly around his face with bangs cut just so, so that most of it stays in the middle of his forehead while the rest are cropped short enough that they don’t fall into his eyes. Who was this guy even kidding? This is college, where no one cares about what the heck they wear as long as it's in dress code.

 

Shoyo always refers to the other as ‘that guy’ because he doesn’t know his name. Was it that Shoyo had such a busy schedule that he couldn’t ask? No. It was pretty much the exact opposite. Was it because he didn’t want to disturb ‘that guy’s’ work at the library? Maybe. Or not, because his personality is more towards pestering people than being quiet. Was it because the mystery man had this air of “don’t-come-near-me-or-so-help-me-I-will-‘insert threat here’”? Bingo. It was, to put it simply, pathetic, that he couldn’t just go up to this person and introduce himself. He knows this, but he can’t do it. He just can’t. It doesn’t help that the other is rarely seen in any other place than working in the library. 

 

Shoyo scoffs: the library! Why be inside a stuffy old place filled with outdated books when one could be having the time of one’s life with friends, breathing fresh air, being and feeling truly alive? He views his surroundings at his usual station at the lamppost: a sea of green grass, picnic tables scattered here and there, a few hammocks strung between trees, all surrounded by tall buildings-now, this was real living. “Well”, he admits to himself, “if I’m all for that life, why am I worrying about this guy?” Why is this so important to him anyway? The guy’s obviously one out of however many students that attend this college, one guy who always wears the same style every day, but still! No one dresses like that! Shoyo laughs quietly as his thoughts transitioned quickly into a tangent.

 

Just one accidental crossed path on the staircase with the taller male a few weeks ago led to this obsession. By crossed path, it meant Shoyo veering off mid-step to the side to avoid crashing into a complete stranger while he ran late to class for the third time that week... Wait. Obsession? He shakes his head; that’s absurd. He just wants to know the name, the name that gives a person identity, a purpose in life, even. He nods his head in agreement with himself, good thinking, me! He decides to write down that thought in his journal later, but after-

 

The bell resounds through the campus grounds, making his shoulders twitch in surprise. What time was it again? He checks his watch but the battery’s dead, making him shake it angrily in the hopes that some remaining juice would make it work for just a few seconds, but no dice. He squints in the afternoon sun and suddenly realizes that it’s his last class, math. He groans loudly and starts to run to the other side of the campus, halfway there in two minutes, until he skids to a halt; his backpack is still there by the lamppost.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

With a weak excuse that tumbled easily enough from his mouth, to flailing inwardly during his math test accompanied by a feeling of despair with one glance at the first question, Shoyo manages to get through the class by the skin of his teeth. And then it was time. As he walks down the hallway, he fiddles with a spare pencil, twirling it around his fingers: a habit he developed in middle school and often got chastised for when he interrupted lessons when he accidentally let it fall to the floor. Around and around it goes, either end grazing his fingers as he stops to stare at the wooden double doors of the library entrance, eyes roving over every letter in the plaque nailed overhead. 

 

He holds his breath- he doesn’t know why- and pushes the doors open. He finally made it to the library and actually stepped inside after numerous failed attempts to gather up his courage- the courage that was beaten down when he saw his friends being blown off by “that guy” and from rumors. He exhales, and his air meets the accumulation of dust on the fake potted plant on his right, causing the dust to rise up and figuratively smack him in the face. Coughing, he stumbles away, tripping on a pile of books before he even manages to go past three feet, said pile sending him headfirst onto the floor and causing his pencil to roll away somewhere. After the brief interaction between his face and the musty carpet, Shoyo springs up, dusts his clothes off, beams widely to cover up his embarrassment, and turns to unexpectedly meet the face of, or the head of-

 

A young man who is bent over the service counter, face wiped of any emotion, but it's clear that he is completely engrossed in a piece of paper. So, he’s actually not looking at Shoyo. The latter tries to sneak a look by reading upside down but gives up when his eyes start to strain; he resorts to rocking back and forth on his feet to wait until he gets noticed. A minute passes and nothing happens other than the occasional twitch of “that guy’s” finger as he marks his place on what he’s reading. It slowly moves to the side and down the page until it pauses on the last paragraph. Shoyo’s rocking accelerates ever so slightly, and he coughs once. Nothing. Four minutes pass and his legs are starting to cramp a little, and meanwhile, the paper is exchanged for one with no words but only numbers on the left margin. A hand reaches for a pencil located a few centimeters away in a cup filled with others just like it, and Shoyo can’t take it anymore. He slams his palm against the counter, the cup rattles, and blue eyes flash up to meet his own brown ones and he’s taken aback at their ferocity. He doesn’t have time to glare back because those eyes meet the paper again and the pencil starts to write furiously next to the numbers.

 

“Excuse me,” Shoyo says after a long pause, “Could you direct me to the books on psych-”

 

“Second floor on the right.” The other cuts in smoothly, not bothering to look up again from the desk. The pencil moves back up to number three and corrects a word or two.

 

“Okay, uh…” His eyes flick to the name tag pinned on that immaculate shirt. “Tobio.” Yes, Tobio. Finally, Shoyo thinks, why couldn’t he have done this sooner? Getting the name was as simple as stealing a glance at a nametag. He gets a sudden urge to stick around a little longer to pester the assumed librarian.

 

“Alright Tobio, where are the books about accounting?”

 

“First floor, middle aisle. And it’s Kageyama to you.” He replies, sounding slightly irritated.

 

Shoyo barely restrains a snort at the notion of calling people by their last names. Who even does that anymore? But damn. Tobio was really good at this book finding stuff, and he didn’t even falter once.

 

“Cool, what about-” He starts to say.

 

“Are you trying to play games with me? I’m trying to work but you’re still standing here with your petty questions that you could answer yourself if you looked at the shelves!” Tobio snaps, lifting his eyes from the written inventory.

 

“Geez, I’ll just take the book I want and get out then,” Shoyo starts to back up with his hands put up in a mock “I surrender” pose and sprints up to the second floor- “Hey! No running in the library!” Tobio yells from down below- and back down with a book in each hand.

 

“You must really love pushing my buttons. Oh, and in case you can’t count, you said only one book,” Tobio grumbles as he scans the books’ barcodes. “ID, please,” He says, with the ‘please’ tacked on to the end with fake sincerity.

 

“Thanks Tobio!” Shoyo calls over his shoulder a few minutes later as he walks out, completely forgetting to take back his ID.

 

“It’s Kageyama!” He snarls at the retreating back.


	2. What's Bad

Tobio flips the card over in his hand. It's just a piece of plastic with basic information about the owner plus his dorm room building name and number. It isn't anything too interesting; Tobio has pretty much the exact same thing stuck in his frocket.

What kind of dumbass runs off without taking their belongings first? This 'Shoyo Hinata' apparently. He decides to give it back, but how? How can he track down Shoyo without looking like some kind of creep? He wants to keep it in the library's desk drawer until he comes back, but it could take days, weeks, months, even. The other could be one of those types who take forever to return books because they either forget or ignore the return date. So, scratch that, he thinks, feeling a little defeated.

Wait. He rummages through his pants' right pocket, his hands touch something round yet lumpy- is that washed gum in its wrapper? Grimacing, he switches to his left pocket and feels the cold surface of his old flip phone. He flicks it open and pulls up his contact list. He pushes the down button to go through his grand total of 10 contacts: his dad, mom, home phone, Tooru, various mobile assistance hotlines, voicemail, and himself. He stares dumbly at the screen until it goes dim. Only 10?

That can't be right. He desperately clicks through his contacts again, pressing a little too forcefully on the little button. There has to be some kind of miscalculation. There isn't: 10 again. And then it hits him: he has no friends. His relationship with Tooru is more towards begrudging upperclassman respect, which makes on and off conversations that amount to nothing. When was the last time he talked to him anyway? Last month?  
It never really occured to Tobio that he would need at least one friend in college. But first, the ID return. He considers calling his parents but he knows that they would say something akin to how a 19 year old is too old to be asking for a solution for something like this. Oh, and possibly a downward spiraling conversation about his grades and so on. He always fears the worst when they talk about his nonexistent major, because he hasn't chosen one yet.

The mobile assistance hotlines are out of the question. What would he do? Tell his whole sob story of how he has no friends and that he has a stupid dilemma- "Excuse me sir, would you like me to contact a therapist?"- If not that, the most they could do is probably tell him how to view his phone bill online.

Then came to Tooru. What was he supposed to say? "Hey, I just called you to ask how you can return an ID to this guy I barely know without looking like a stalker"? Tooru would do that stupid and condescending laugh of his and then ask him to say it again for shits and giggles. It would not be pretty.

He snaps the phone shut, extinguishing the light, and pinches the bridge of his nose. He mentally sets his priorities straight. First, homework, housework, other things, and then the ID. Tobio prepares to stick the annoying thing in his wallet, but not before he scrutinizes the face of the owner one more time. Ridiculously unruly brown? orange? hair catches his eyes first, seconded by the wide smile that made Hinata look much younger than 18.

He rolls his eyes and puts it in one of the spare credit card pockets in his wallet, dropping it off by his kitchen counter. He moves to his dresser, takes out a wrinkly white shirt, and drapes it over his shoulder. He eases down the ironing board, ignoring the screech as the legs touch down on the floor. He reaches up to the top shelf of the closet and takes out the iron, plugging it into the nearest outlet. This process is systematic. A little too much, but Tobio is accustomed to it.

He spreads the shirt out on the ironing board, sprays it a few times, and tugs so that it's taut while he waits for the iron to heat up. A few minutes later, as he irons away the creases in the sleeves, Tobio wonders about how Hinata is coping without his ID and, despite himself, cracks a hint of a smile.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
In a dorm room located on the east side of campus, a Shoyo Hinata is frantically searching through his belongings.

"Argh! Where is it?!"

"Where is what?" A shaven headed male inquires as he walks in, narrowly ducking a flying t-shirt.

"Yeah, where is-mmph!" Another voice echoes, until he's cut off by the aforementioned article of clothing hitting him in the face.

"My ID!" Shoyo exclaims, patting his pockets and his person. "I had it with me but then I lost it somewhere!"

"Did you forget it in the wash again? Because I remember last time and it melted a little." The one who got hit in the face suggests helpfully, combing through his spiky strands of hair. He tosses the t-shirt aside on a growing pile of discarded clothing by the door.

"It didn't melt! It just got a little heated so..." Shoyo retorts, peevishly.

"Don't worry, I'm sure it's in a classroom or something, right?" The other male reassures, patting Shoyo on the back.

"I hope it isn't; I already got in trouble last time and couldn't get on dorm." Shoyo moans, remembering when he went out to get something in the dining hall during unholy hours in the morning and forgot to bring the ID with him. He had stood out in the cold, banging at the door until his roommates Ryunosuke and Yuu ushered him back in, but not without some adults getting wind of it. They wanted to know why a college freshman was standing outside in the cold in nothing but underwear. Was that a meat bun from the dining hall? They let him off with a warning, but he knew it was going to be worse the next time he forgets his ID and sneaks food out.

"Oh yeah," Yuu muses. "That was funny."

"It was," Ryunosuke agrees, "but it would've been better if Kiyoko was there to see us save the day!"

"And then she would've..." Yuu's voice becomes faint as he moves into the common room, the other following him.

Shoyo doesn't have the heart to tell his upperclassman friends that the chance of her seeing it happen is a one in a million chance, and then some since she ignores them anyway. Their voices cut in and out at odd intervals, until with a shout of "Kiyoko!", do they fall silent. And then, the sound of the TV comes on.

He kicks at a lump of clothing on the floor, and his foot touches something angular. Books. When did they get there?

"I got it!" He cheers, heart thumping as he cracks open the covers, to reveal... Absolutely nothing. "I don't got it," He mumbles, slapping his hand against his forehead. Maybe he should check the library? It wouldn't hurt to try. After all, that was the last place where his ID-

He runs into the common room and skids to a halt in front of the TV, arms spread wide. "Guys! I know where it is!" He says excitedly. "Let's go get it!"

"Move, Shoyo! We're trying to watch TV!" Yuu complains, craning his neck to watch in the spots where it wasn't covered by the short underclassman.

Ryunosuke is surprisingly more to the point. "It's already night, so it won't be open." He adds.

Oh. Right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even more of this nonsense, yeah! Writing two series at a time is hard, but the other one is in progress, so..


	3. And What's Worse

He sighs, restless. He scoots the chair an inch up, then back two, not liking the feeling of the edge of the counter against his chest. He sits straight in the chair, then slouches. Tobio is bored. With managing the library on a Friday afternoon, he has nothing to take up his time except that short literary analysis for English. But he’ll do that later. Probably. He takes out the ID from his wallet and frowns at it, as if his mental disapproval could be transferred to its owner.

“Ugh,” Tobio says, finally breaking his own silence.

He hears footsteps, and rests his elbows on the counter, pushing the card aside. Should he smile or look like he is doing something absolutely important? Too late, his gaze meets with the intruder.

“Koushi?” He stares at the gray-haired upperclassman.

“Hi, Tobio!” Koushi Sugawara answers, smiling.

“What brings you here?” Tobio knows that Sugawara wouldn’t have just come here for books, after all, he had all the textbooks on hand.

“Well, you looked kind of lonely in here all by yourself so…” Koushi trails off sheepishly. “So, if you want to, just give me a call, alright? Oh, and to Daichi too, he knows.” He slides over a slip of paper folded in half. “Bye!” He walks out as abruptly as he came in.

Tobio waits until he hears the doors close to unfold the paper. Inside, he finds two phone numbers neatly written in black ink labeled respectively with either “Koushi” or “Daichi”. He takes out his phone and pulls up his contact list, typing in each of the numbers carefully, double checking back and forth in case he might have left something out or typed incorrectly.

A light cough draws his attention from the screen, and he does a double take. Kiyoko Shimizu, another rare visitor to the library, places a small piece of paper torn from a memo pad on the counter and starts to walk away with a small smile on her face.

“Kiyoko, you too?”

She turns and merely raises her eyebrows slightly in response.

“Are you sure this wasn’t planned? I mean, you’re the second one today who gave me their number.” Tobio inquires.

“I’m sure.” She says with a slight bit of hesitation that sets off Tobio’s mental alarm bells, but he decides not to pursue the matter any further.

Outside, two upperclassmen choke on their spit in disbelief and one underclassman gawks at the exchange from a window.

“Did you see that?!” Yuu nearly screams.

“This can’t be real!” Ryunosuke adds.

“Guys, I think-” Shoyo starts to say.

“I know, she just gave him her number! Our chances are ruined!” Yuu collapses dramatically on the floor, clapping both hands to his forehead.

“Wait, have hope. If a simpleton like him can get it, then so can we.” His friend assures him.

“Ryu, are you sure?”

“Of course. Just wait.”

At that moment, Kiyoko walks out, takes one look at the three huddled in the corner, and beats a hasty retreat, or so it seemed to her two fans.

“Kiyoko, wait!”

“Yeah, we have to ask you something!”

The two run after her, leaving Shoyo behind, as usual.

Meanwhile, Tobio types in the numbers for his new contact and presses “OK” to save. He feels a rush of excitement that leaves him a little light headed as he looks at his contact list. Three phone numbers! Was this what it felt like to have people to talk to? He makes a new message addressed to all three and types in “Hello”, leaving the cursor blinking as he thinks. Should he put in some kind of punctuation mark after it? An exclamation point would come off as too excited, but a period would be a little too formal and besides, it would seem unfriendly.

He tries and erases various punctuation marks at least six times until he opts for none, sending the message as is with a growing feeling of dread. What if he sounded really stupid and needy? He closes the phone at the same time the doors open, colliding with the wall, accompanied with a muffled curse.

“Hello, Tobio?” A voice calls out. Tobio wills the voice’s owner to turn around and leave, but the footsteps come closer and faster. Then silence.

“ID!” It comes out suddenly and loudly, making Tobio swivel around a little too fast in his seat and nearly making him fall out.

“Jesus Christ!” Tobio yells at the familiar figure standing behind him at the other side of the counter. “This is a library! Use your inside voice! You want your ID? Here it is!” He hands it over with a glare.

“You stole it!” Shoyo declares as he pockets his ID.

“I- what?”

“You took it yesterday while I wasn’t looking, didn't cha?” Shoyo accuses.

“Oh, of course. I totally wanted to find a way to your room so I could stay with your boisterous roommates instead of living in my single room.” Tobio replies, every word dripping with sarcasm. “No, stupid, you ran off without taking it.”

“Liar. I’m going to tell the dean about this!” This statement makes Tobio freeze in shock.

“Just kidding! I wouldn’t do that, besides, they wouldn’t believe me.” Shoyo laughs.

“Why, you-!” Tobio reaches out and pinches Shoyo’s cheeks, making the shorter male reach for his face in pain.

“Ow! Stop, I’m sorry!” He wails and slaps at Tobio’s hands, “But you should’ve seen your face, it was hilarious! You looked like you were about to have a heart attack!”

“Don’t say irresponsible things like that! Geez, what a pain. I’m going to die young because of people like you.” He sighs loudly and yanks one more time at the now red cheeks before letting go.

“I think my cheeks stretched out a little, so thanks. I thought you were scary at first, but you’re actually really painful.” Shoyo gripes, rubbing at his face. “I think you’re actually kind of cool too, so let’s be friends!” He announces, sticking his arm out for a handshake.

“..Huh?” This was all going too fast for Tobio; the orange haired male was like a hurricane, going this way and then that way. He was ninety six percent sure that offering to be friends wasn’t actually how you made friends, but he could be wrong. He thought it was by talking repeatedly with someone.

To heck with it, he thinks, I need all the friends I can get if I want to survive for the next three years. “Friends.” He says finally, grasping Shoyo’s hand.

“So, can I call you ‘Toby’?”

“What? No.” Tobio was expecting Shoyo to leave after this, not stick around.

“Why not?”

“It’s not my name, obviously. Go away, I need to do my homework.”

“But your real name is like ‘toe’,” Shoyo points to his own toe, “‘bee’ like the insect or the letter, ‘oh’,” and forms an ‘O’ shape with his arms over his head. “It’s weird.” He pauses. “Why’re you doing your homework on a Friday? Do it tomorrow. Or are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Stupid! No one says it like that!” Tobio answers angrily, ignoring the last part of the other’s statement, which thankfully goes unnoticed.

“Toebeeohhhh.” Shoyo draws out every syllable in a singsong voice.

“Shut up.” Tobio says as he makes a move towards Shoyo’s face.

“So I can call you ‘Toby’, right?” Shoyo asks a few moments later after he backs away to a safe distance.

“You know what, fine.” He doesn’t want to argue back and forth anymore.

“Yes! I win!” Shoyo does a fist pump in the air.

What are you, five? Tobio longs to say, but he doesn’t. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re really annoying?” He says instead.

“No, but now that you mention it, I always liked to think one of my best qualities is perseverance.” Shoyo smiles cheekily, much to Tobio’s growing annoyance.

“Shut up.” Tobio says, again.


End file.
